Never New Days
by Qest
Summary: What happens when you really don't want to do homework? Well... this, I guess. Kinda Severitusy. Lesser evils. Prologue Bribe the Kings. It'll get darker, after the first chapter. I wrote all eleven pages in one sitting. Yeah.


A/n – Dear Lord, I can't believe I wrote this. I just really, really didn't want to do homework, and... this is what happened. It gets better after the first scene – I wasn't really in a writing mood when I started.

* * *

_Never New Days__Bribe the kings  
Kiss the skiesWhy should you care  
If I live or die?_

* * *

"Oh, Severus, isn't this _wonderful_?" Lily was curled up in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace –now only holding ashes, as it was too early in the morning to be bothered with – but was twisted so that she could face him, legs over one of the armrests, back resting against the other. 

The man in question quickly stepped over to the window, footsteps making light snaps against the wooden floor of his apartment above the apothecary. Yes, it would be wonderful. If only he hadn't – wasn't – didn't serve that _thing_ he called his master. If his position as a spy was discovered, Lily would be killed – whatever child born to them would be killed as well. If his position was not discovered... children of Death Eaters were expected to follow heir parents into service, and Severus would be damned before allowing that to happen.

Lily was smart enough, but idealism marred her better judgment. Severus shook his head slowly, knowing that his soon-to-be-wife would hold onto that idealism no matter what he said. He couldn't let her get hurt by this. A cold mask settled over his features, betraying no emotion. He turned back towards the center of the room. Lily stood up from the armchair, brows coming together in a puzzled, concerned expression, knowing that something was not right.

Occluding his mind against anything she might pick up, Severus looked long and hard at his only love, before rolling up his sleeve. Precisely, coldly, emotionlessly, he stated, "I am a Death Eater. Leave now and I might... forget any of this ever happened."

Green eyes filled with tears, and Severus's heart twisted painfully, "But couldn't –"

"No. Go."

She turned then, walking out the door to the stairs without a backward glance. He could hear her quick steps as she descended the stairs, and then could envision her working her way through his crowded shop. Unable to help himself, Severus crossed to the window, staring down at the doorstep of the apothecary, waiting one last glimpse of the woman he loved.

A few moments later, he wished he hadn't allowed himself to watch. Lily came out of the apothecary, tears streaming down her cheeks, looking for all the world like she was completely heartbroken. Severus knew better – recognized her swift step and tightened shoulders. She was furious. Green eyes looked up then, and glared at him as if he were the most worthless creature she had ever seen.

Severus turned away from the window, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He fell into the armchair Lily had occupied just minutes before, still warm from her presence. Slow breathing released some of the tension and regret, but his hands still shook visibly as he rolled his sleeve back down over the ugly black mark. It was for the best, he told himself, and knew it to be true. She could never know the truth. She would probably go to Dumbledore , he realized, to tell him that I'm a Death Eater.

Misery forgotten to a later date, he grabbed the first bit of parchment he could find, scribbling in a slanting, spiky hand,

**Do not tell her anything. It is best that she does not know. – S**

Precise and to the point. Albus would get the message clearly enough, and it didn't mention any names, in case it was intercepted. Severus crossed the room and dashed down the steps, only slowing to a quick walk when he reached the store. Before any of his customers could begin asking him stupid questions he had grabbed one of the owls he used for delivering mail orders and given her the note, murmuring, "Headmaster," as the recipient, too quietly for anyone to hear over the buzz in the store.

After the owl took off, he turned to the first waiting customer with equal briskness, to try to pass off his rush as wishing to get through the dozen or so people wandering around his store. The cashier, Alexander, was checking people out as quickly as possible, but most were unwilling to ask for assistance from the hired help. The problem with the occasional educated clientele was that they required intelligent people to help them, and the cashier didn't quite suffice.

The first person waiting in a clump around him was dressed neatly, and though his clothes were old and worn, they were neatly pressed. The man seemed to be around Severus's age, somewhere in his mid-twenties, but he seemed rather grey and tired, probably from worry, "I need to purchase some rather compromising – "

That was the word werewolves usually used when they came to beg for the sleep tonic he had stumbled upon, to make them too tired to hurt anyone when transformed, "Wait in the back." The next customer stepped up and Severus crossed his arms to stop himself from rubbing his temples. As the youngest Master of potions in a century, no one would leave him alone, though he dearly wished for it. There'd be no escaping back upstairs now. As he answered the every concern of the next customer, Severus supposed it was for the best that he had some sort of distraction, at least.

* * *

The Headmaster tucked the note into a fold of his robes as he gave the crying before him long, sympathetic look and covered her hands with his own wrinkled ones, "It is all being taken care of. I will look into it, Lily. Don't worry over a thing. Now, why don't you have a lemon drop and visit James? I believe he is downstairs working on the wards. A kind face now would do you some good."

* * *

"He'll be Harry James Potter. After you. Oh, isn't it _wonderful_, James?" 

"It is, Lily. Absolutely _wonderful._"

* * *

"My apologies, Master. We have no leads on the Potters' residence." 

"Such failure is unlike you, Severus. Crucio!"

* * *

"The Potters are gone, Severus. Their house was attacked last night, though you have probably heard." 

"So it was all for nothing, then."

"Ah – but Harry still lives, Severus. He has gone to live with his Aunt and Uncle, but other arrangements could – "

"No. I know of his... participation in the Dark Lord's fall. We both know He will come back, and then how will I explain that I am the father of his greatest enemy? I cannot look after a child anyway, Albus. Let him live with his relatives."

* * *

"I am curious, Severus, how it is that your son looks exactly like James? Arabella was just speaking of the resemblance, and though he is only five, I can see it myself." 

"He _is not_ my son, Headmaster. I gave up the right to call him that long ago. And how should I know? Potter and I were cousins, perhaps that is it. Maybe Lily cast something on the boy. I do not know, and frankly I do not care. Is there anything else you wished to ask me?"

* * *

"Aunt Petunia?" 

"What is it, boy?"

"I'm eight and today is my birthday, Aunt Petunia. Eight years – "

"I know that, boy. Don't you have something you could be doing?"

"..."

"Everyone I know has a Mommy and Daddy to wish them a happy birthday. Why don't I have a Mommy and a Daddy?"

"Because they got themselves killed, you ungrateful boy. Died in a car crash. Don't ask questions."

"...Yes, Aunt Petunia."

* * *

"Today, class, we'll be drawing pictures of our families! I think we all made frames in last week's art class? Yes, yes? Good. Now – crayons and markers are on the front table, and you all have your papers. Have fun!" 

Harry stood in the crowd waiting to get markers, tripping over too-large clothes occasionally, but more or less cheerful. He didn't have Art with Dudley, so this was a fun class. It usually was, at least. But he didn't want to draw a picture of his family. He didn't know what they looked like, anyway.

His small, grubby hands took a fistful of crayons, regardless of color or if they had wrappers. Dudley always sorted through the crayons carefully, and would only use crayons with wrappers, so Harry liked to just use whatever ones he grabbed.

The boy sat back down in the yellow, plastic chair and stared down at the paper. He pushed though the crayons for a black one, and started scribbling busily. Black, then green, then yellow, then the darker green. Harry smiled at his picture as Ms. Thompson came over to see.

"Harry, dear, this is a beautiful picture of you and a dragon, but where is your family? Surely the dragon isn't you family, sweetie?"

"I didn't wanna draw my family. Aunt Petunia said they died in a car crash."

"Oh, my... I'm sorry, hunny. But then why didn't you draw your Aunt?"

"'Cause I don't like my Aunt and Uncle and Dudley, Ms. Thompson. I wanted to draw a dragon instead. Can I put it in my picture frame anyway? Please?"

* * *

"What is _this_, boy?" 

"It's a _dragon_, Uncle! I drew it in Art on Thursday because we were supposed to make a picture for our – "

"I know it's a _dragon_, boy! Why did you draw _this?_ Why did you bring it into _our _household? I will not tolerate this... _abnormalness_, boy! I will not stand for it! This is going straight into the trash, where the likes of you belong!"

"But... Uncle... It's my –"

"Cupboard, boy! Now! Or you'll be going into the trash with it!"

* * *

"Mr. Dursley, your nephew has qualified for the Gifted Program! The District has an organization where all students who are... intellectually beyond their peers can receive special education on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and attend normal schooling during the rest – " 

"Do I have to pay for it?"

"No, sir, the Gifted Program is completely free. Now – "

"And he'll only go to... normal school twice a week?"

"Yes! And we'll put young Harry into an accelerated class for those two days, so – "

"Hold on."

"Vernon, you know Dudders doesn't like having Harry in his classes. I know it's probably just a fluke – a freak like _him_ getting into this... Program, but not Duddy? Not like we'd want our little boy to go to any special schooling, anyway. But we should at least take advantage of the mistake... get the boy away from our Dudley."

"...Fine, we'll do it. Do I have to sign anything?"

"No, sir. The Program – "

"Good."

* * *

"Are you Harry, dear?" 

"Yes'm. Harry Potter."

"It's _so_ good for you to be part of the Program, Harry. And so polite! You checked out with your new teacher before you got on the bus to come here, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wonderful! I'm Mrs. Ross, but you can call me Anna, sweetie. This school is more casual than your normal school. Now, let's find your homeroom. See, here at the Center for Creative Learning, you have more than one class."

"Like Secondary School?"

"Exactly. You go to your homeroom in the morning, Harry, which is where I'm taking you now. Then you go to your first Kaleidoscope class after that -"

"What? Kaleidoscope? Like one of those things you look into and see all the colors or something?"

"Yes, Harry. That's just what we call them. Kaleidoscope classes are things like Art or Writing or anything not taught in your homeroom. We have them to give students a different outlook, like a kaleidoscope does. Now, you go to homeroom, then we'll help you find your first Kaleidoscope class, then lunch, then your second Kaleidoscope, then you'll get back to homeroom for the rest of the afternoon. When school's over, you get on the busses and go home. You're bus number 34, okay?"

"34, okay."

"And here's your homeroom. Ms McKing, or Jamie, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright, Harry, have a good day."

* * *

"Aunt Petunia, Aunt Petunia! I went to CCL today, 'cause it's Monday and I had Art class and we made things out of clay and I had to take a pretest in homeroom and that wasn't fun, but the rest of the day was awesome, and I made a _friend_ at lunch, and he said his name was Alex, and his dad's name was Alex, and his dad's _dad_'s name was Alex, and they are all scientists, so I was wondering what _my_ dad's dad's name was-" 

"Boy! Do you think I _care_ about your day at school? Do you think I _know_ what your freak of a grandfather's name was? Do you think it matters? Go away, boy. Dudders will be home soon, and I need to finish his snack."

"...Oh. Alright."

* * *

"Severus." 

Alexander was closing up shop, as the crowds had thinned enough and it was getting late. Severus raised his dark gaze from the inventory books to give the cashier at least partial attention. Alexander had since become fairly competent and was more like a partner than an employee, not to mention the fact that he was now the Potion Master's brother-in-law, but Severus still primarily thought of him as 'the cashier.'

"Alexander."

The cashier was in one of his more talkative moods, and Severus resigned himself to being chatted at until Alexander remembered that his wife would be irritable if he got home too late.

"The _strangest_ thing happened today. You know my son, Alex?"

"Yes, I know. He happens to be my nephew, if you recall."

"Well, he goes to a muggle school for smart children in primary school and you wouldn't believe who he met today!"

Met only with silence, he talked on as he shuffled through owl orders and the other papers strewn over every available surface in the cramped apothecary, "Harry Potter! Thankfully, Alex didn't really understand or he might've started talking about the wizarding world around the muggles – but can you believe it? The Boy Who Lived, going to a muggle school!"

Severus kept his gaze locked on the book before him, though the numbers had turned into a meaningless scramble as he kept memories forcefully in check, "I assume even celebrities must go to school somewhere, Alexander."

"Well – that's beyond the point. Alex has invited him over this weekend and my wife is running around trying to make everything look muggle-ish, because we don't think the boy knows much about wizardry, which is puzzling, but – Dear Lord, it's almost eight! Excuse me Severus, but I really must -"

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"You know boy, we're only letting you go because Duddy wants to have his friends over and doesn't want you ruining everything. And don't go... being _abnormal_, got it?" 

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"Good. They're here, boy. Hurry outside so they don't come in. I can't imagine the type of family that would invite _you_ over."

* * *

Harry dashed over towards the red minivan, the cold September air that sunk quickly through his shirt and the frost crunching under his old sneakers ignored in his delight. The side door to the van opened as he neared it, and Harry was greeted with his new friend's grin and cheer of, "Harry!" 

He clambered into the car, which was pleasantly strewn with magazines and maps and had a box of snacks sitting between the front two seats. It was easily the friendliest car Harry had ever seen, right down to the safety seat attached in the back seat, "Alex!" Harry's enthusiasm easily matched the other boy's, and Harry eagerly strapped himself in with the seatbelt, excited to leave.

Remembering his manners, Harry momentarily controlled himself enough to say politely, "Thank you for picking me up, Mrs. Ellison."

Alex's mom smiled as she pulled the car out of the driveway, and kept her eyes on the road as she said cheerfully, "It's no trouble, none at all!" She spoke in a crisp fashion that made her sound educated and perfectly groomed, which her appearance supported in every way - glossy black hair, tan skin to match Alex's and dark eyes in a round, pretty face.

Alex spoke up again, drawing Harry's attention back. Enthusiasm was contagious, and soon Harry was caught up in the chatter as well. Mrs. Ellison drove carefully – stopping at every light and stop sign, but not grumbling about the delay the way Aunt Petunia did. Alex's house was a good fifteen minutes away, but, to Harry, it seemed like no time at all.

The car pulled into a slopping driveway in front of an old, stone house – two floors with lots of windows, but seeming cozy, rather than large. The entire front yard was covered in a flower garden, though only a few flowers remained, due to the early fall.

Harry had barely gotten his seatbelt off by when Alex grabbed his arm and - more or less – dragged the shorter boy out of the car. Any nervousness about going over to a friend's house for the first time was erased as the boys ran into the house. Harry got only a glimpse of a kitchen and living room before they started up the stairs to Alex's room.

* * *

The Ellisons usually sat down together for lunch, as Harry learned early that afternoon. Of course, the term 'sit down' was used loosely at best, and, though the Dursley like to have organized lunches as well, the two had almost nothing in common. 

Before anyone could eat, the kitchen table was cleared off. Alex's older sister, Katrina, came downstairs to help, and everyone took the books and papers and coffee cups and other clutter off the kitchen table and put them down onto any other surface nearby. Mrs. Ellison and Katrina got out anything that could be conceivably be put into or on a sandwich, which replaced the clutter on the table. Dishes came next – white and gleaming clean, if a little scratched. Alex had two little sisters who were twins, and Mr. Ellison appeared in the middle of everything to settle them into high chairs.

There was actually very little sitting involved in Mrs. Ellison's way of 'sitting down for lunch.' Someone was always standing up to get more to drink, or had to walk around the table to find their preferred type of jam, and Mr. Ellison never actually sat down at all – he ate standing up, while watching over the two smallest Ellisons.

Harry wasn't feeling very talkative, since he wasn't used to being expected to talk at meals. It didn't matter much, anyway, because everyone talked enough to cover up his silences. Alex talked at length to his father about what they were doing in class, and Harry made a few shy attempts to volunteer opinions, which were eagerly received by Mr. Ellison. He had the same bright grey eyes as Alex, and very curly dark brown hair that no one in the family shared.

Despite Mr. Ellison's open, friendly features, something about him made Harry nervous – like he knew a secret that he wasn't sharing with anyone, and he couldn't help but be unnerved by the way he found himself talking about anything Mr. Ellison asked without even thinking about it.

When he mentioned it to Alex when they were looking for Harry's trainers (The Ellison's had several cats and two dogs, both of which liked to steal shoes), however, the other boy just laughed and responded, "Dad does that to everybody. You get used to it... Aha!" With the discovery of Harry's shoes, the boys climbed into the van with considerably less enthusiasm than they had earlier that morning.

After telling Mrs. Ellison that, yes, he would love to come over again soon and wishing Alex a goodbye, Harry trudged up the neat walk in front of number four, and let himself into the pristine, spotless front hall. The sudden silence was depressing after the noise over at Alex's house, and Harry's shoulders dropped as he closed the door.

* * *

"Severus!" 

The Potion's Master gave his brother-in-law an annoyed glance, and continued measuring Egyptian Asp eyes for a customer. When the single customer had left (the apothecary was always quiet right around lunch), Severus glared at Alexander blackly, "You are late."

Startled grey eyes sought out his watch, to discover that he was actually running well over an hour late, "Yes, well – sorry about that, but there's been rather an emergency, you see –"

"Is Anita alright?" Severus ceased pretending to organize things in the back and gave the cashier his full attention.

"Huh?"

The Potions Master glared and said with forced calm, "My sister. Your wife. Anita. Remember her, by chance?"

Alexander winced, run his hand through his very short curls, "I haven't forgotten. Yes, yes, she's fine. But we had Harry –"

Giving the slightly younger man an unmistakable 'shut _up' _glare, Severus wound his way through tall shelves to flip the sign to close the apothecary and, by subtly running his hand over the doorframe, put up the silencing charms. Turning back to Alexander, he crossed his arms and said, voice thick with annoyance, "Now, if you'd care to tell me why I should care about the Boy Who Lived..."

"Well, I didn't honestly think you'd care," the cashier responded, honestly and unapologetically, "But I didn't really know what to do about it. You see, we had Harry over for lunch today and I... happened to pick up on –"

"Legilimency on a child?" Severus' eyebrows rose in minor surprise. His brother-in-law, while at times annoyingly curious, didn't usually do things like that.

"Not exactly. It doesn't matter anyway – don't pretend like I've actually shocked you, Severus, because we both know I haven't. I don't think Harry is happy with his Aunt and Uncle."

Severus started to interrupt that he honestly didn't care, but Alexander kept talking over him, "He ate _three_ sandwiches at lunch, and said he _forgot_ to have breakfast, though he looked half-starved. I... suggested that he talked about his Aunt's family, the Dursely's. He didn't say anything, but I asked him about his room and he thought about a cupboard! Like for brooms, but with a cot in it. It was _terrible_. And his clothes were obviously not bought for him – they're huge on the poor boy, and his sleeve slipped up and there were bruises on his arms like he'd been grabbed..."

The cashier was obviously upset and, though Severus was puzzled why Alexander would tell _him_ of all people what was going on, he gestured towards a chair and got the younger man a glass of water, as he deliberated over the proper course of action, "Collect yourself and stay until Sezen gets here," Sezen was the other hired help – a student brilliant in potions who had begged and hung around the store until Severus had granted her a job in the afternoons, after she was done with school, "Tell her that she can shut the store at seven if I'm not back by then."

With that, Severus hunted through his pocket until he found the phoenix charm and, with a whisper of, "Hogwarts," disappeared.

* * *

"Severus!" The portkey had taken Severus directly into Dumbledore's study, which was just as cluttered with useless trinkets and candies as usual, "Care for a -" 

"No, thank you, Headmaster," Severus interrupted smoothly, "I am not here for a visit. It seems that my nephew has become... friends with Harry Potter, and my brother-in-law has somehow determined that the Boy Who Lived is not... enjoying life with the Dursleys." His tone was forced and hard, but even.

The Headmaster grew thoughtful and leaned back into his chair, "Ah..." Severus waited, still standing, for a few minutes, until it became obvious that that was all Dumbledore planned to say.

"Ah? Do you plan to... do... anything about the situation? As I said, my... brother-in-law... has himself rather convinced that this constitutes an emergency," Then, realizing his tone sounded rather critical, Severus added shortly, "Sir."

"Well..." The Headmaster trailed off yet again, and Severus locked his hands behind his back to avoid betraying his impatience, "Do have a seat, Severus." He sat, feeling more like a student sent to the Headmaster's office for some misbehavior than he had in quite a while.

"Well..." Dumbledore repeated himself, "If this brother-in-law of yours – Alexander, right? Smart boy, a Ravenclaw – Anyway, if he believed there to be a problem, then it is quite possible that there is one," _You never believed me when** I **voiced concern over anything, Headmaster_, "If you so desire, of course you may check on your son. I can hardly stop you from that. I'm not sure Lily's protective magic will work if you bring Harry home with you, so perhaps you should wait before doing anything drastic... It is quite possible that the boy will be safe no where else, and there will be nothing for you to do."

Severus was momentarily speechless at the assumption that he had any intentions of look after... _Lily_'s son, which gave Dumbledore chance to continue on, his tone turning darker and more disappointed than it was, "I must say, Severus, that it is unusual you have not cared to check in on Harry before now. He _is_ your son, after all."

Getting his voice back, the Potions Master swallowed before responding in a very clipped voice, refusing to be scolded as if he were still a student, "You said it yourself. The protections might not even work with me. What if the Dark Lord returns? And Lucius or another Death Eater learns I have _Potter_ –"

"I would suggest," Dumbledore's tone said it was not merely a suggestion, "That you did not refer to your son as that. He isn't even related to James, and only looks like him by chance or illusion. It's Harry, Severus." He gestured smoothly, "But continue."

Severus glared for a moment, but was looking at the wall rather than the serious blue eyes, "If a Death Eater learns I have _Harry_, then, under my care, questions will be asked. The Dark Lord _will_ rise again – he was only injured, gravely injured, but he was not killed. You will need spies then. I will have to go back to work, which I would be unable to do if I had to watch over Lily's child."

The Headmaster shook his head again, and Severus knew that he would not be leaving the room until Dumbledore had gotten his way, "_Your_ son, Severus. If you choose not to accept your responsibilities, then have the decency to say so. You know we could work out the complications with Voldemort. Regardless, someone needs to look in on _your son_, and you would be the most qualified person. Report to me when you are done."

It was a dismissal, and though it grated on his pride, Severus stood and inclined his head. Another gesture for the grim old wizard, and he obligingly used the floo to get back to his rooms above the apothecary.

* * *

Severus changed into his only muggle clothes – a white dress shirt, nice black pants, and a neatly pressed suit coat. His shoes looked mugglish enough to get by, so he quickly made his way down the stairs, intending to walk right out and find some muggle transportation to the – to Lily's sister's house, the address of which was tucked into his pocket, though Severus already had it memorized. 

However, other people had different ideas about his plans.

"Hey-ey, Pr'fessor." That was Sezen, the Potions Master knew without even looking. He had come as a guest speaker for her potions-chemistry class one day, and Sezen had yet to give up the annoying nickname. He glanced her way as he closed the door to his rooms behind him, "Sezen."

The teen addressed was sitting, cross legged, on _top_ of the counter used to measure out ingredients for customers, and was patiently working through owl orders, measuring out each supply almost perfectly on the first try. If she weren't so good at potions, the student would have been fired long ago, "Kindly _get off_ the counter."

"M'kay, Pr'fessor." Sezen turned herself around, slid off the desk, and fell into the chair, brown eyes still locked on the powder she was tipping out into her palm. She looked vaguely like one would imagine an ancient Egyptian – smooth, golden skin and silky black hair that was put up with a pencil at the back of her head.

"Close up the store at seven, please. I doubt I will be back." Severus glanced at the clock – it was getting on past four, it would be dark in an hour or so.

"Seven. Got it."

"Don't sit back on the table the moment I leave, Sezen." With an almost audible snap, the girl occluded her mind. Another ability that kept her employed, despite how annoying she was. Sezen tipped her palm so the powder fell into the brass scales. It balanced exactly with the single ounce block on the other tray.

"Got it. Totally. No sitting on tables. Byenow."

Severus closed the door behind him loud enough to announce his displeasure without making a scene.

* * *

"Number four, Little Whinging. 'Ere we are." Severus didn't respond, but paid the cab driver in silence. Though muggle transportation was usually agonizingly slow, and with this trip being no exception, Severus still wished it could last longer. The ride in the small cab had left his back and legs cramped, and the wizard stretched subtly but irritably. Muggles spent so long in the blasted contraptions, they should at least make them comfortable. 

After checking that he had no company in the faded evening, Severus forgot his previous plan of just knocking on the door and whispered a quick disillusionment spell. Rather than rendering him invisibly, it suggested that anyone who saw him considered it to absolutely normal that he was there and thought no more of it. Most wizards didn't use such spells often, because they lacked the mental control to make the suggestion strong enough. Severus was not one of those wizards.

The Potions Master first looked through the front windows, and saw only an empty front hall and a clean, white living room. He made his way counter-clockwise around the house until he found the window to the dining room. Inside, a tall, thin woman who looked absolutely nothing like Lily, a large blond man, and a boy who looked like a miniature version of the large man sat at a square table, working their way through a generous meal.

_But no sign of the – of Lily's son..._ Scowling, Severus backtracked to the front door. He jiggled the handle and, finding it unlocked, let himself in. He looked through each room, on both floors, tensely and quickly, but with no lack in thoroughness. Sneaking around put him on edge, though logically he knew that the muggles probably wouldn't notice him if they looked straight at him, and also knew that he could perform memory charms without the ministry noticing, because his wand wasn't registered with the ministry.

About to give up and on his way back out the door, Severus paused. Alexander had spoken – ranted, more like – of a broom closet. Turning back from reaching for the doorknob, he walked back to the door to the closet under the stairs with an unusual sense of foreboding, _Relax_, he told himself, _Alexander is dependably wrong about almost anything. You'll find preserves or canned goods, nothing else.

* * *

_

A/n - Let's all cheer for fastforwarding through ah... eight years in about two pages! YAAAAAAAAAAAY!


End file.
